


the scars of our youth

by fantasycostco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Demons, Poor Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasycostco/pseuds/fantasycostco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is ten years old the night his mother dies.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	the scars of our youth

They have just finished cleaning up when his mom pulls the covers over him. Her lips twitch upward as she gently grabs his hand. "Can you tell me a story?" He asks her, and she smooth’s his hair and clambers on to his bed. As she situates herself, curling around him, he waits for her to start. He can feel her exhale, shaky and so unlike her. He opens his mouth to ask what's wrong but she beats him to the punch. She is pale and shaking but she does not cry. She whispers to him about the night he was born, a terrible, terrible secret.

 "You were so fragile, you were born too early. The doctors said you had days to live - at the most. Your father was wrecked, and so was I. Yet, I knew there was a way to save you. To save my precious little boy. So I got up, even though I was weak, and I took your fathers keys. I drove to the nearest crossroads and buried a box with a photo, yarrow, a black cats bone, and a small handful of graveyard dirt. Then I waited." She paused her story here, and he murmured softly to her. "What were you waiting for?" Her honey eyes looked through him.

  "A demon." He gasped. "I didn't wait long. He appeared almost out of nowhere. He wore a dashing suit and I was almost fooled. But his eyes, his eyes were pitch black. They held no warmth. When he smiled, he showed too many teeth, and I was nervous. 'What can I do for you?' he had asked. I told him what I wanted. I wanted my son to live, to be healthy and strong." Her hands brushed through his hair, and then she cupped his chin. "And look at you now, healthy as a horse." He giggled when she tapped nose.

 "What happened though?" He asks, wanting her to continue the story. Her face darkens, and she loses her smile. "He told me he'd see me in ten years after the deal was done." He tilted his head, resting it against her shoulder. "What did he mean?"

 She shushed him. "Nothing my little gem. It just means that, that I'm going to have to be going very soon." Her fingers curled around his. They were cold, and clammy.

 "Mom, what's going on, a demon doesn't just grant wishes." She laughed, it was quiet and kind.

 "My little boy is so smart. Too smart for your own good." She murmured. That's when he heard them, when they both heard them. The sounds of dogs howling. His mother, his kind, sweet, mother made a frightened sound. He looked between her and the window in confusion. Then he heard it again, this time a low snarl.

 His mother got up, quick as lightening, and went into the hall. She was gone for quite some time before she came back. She brought salt.

 "Why do you have a giant sack of salt?" He asked. She only turned and placed a line of salt in front of his window and door. This time the dogs howled in rage, right outside his window, and he pulled the blankets around him.

 "Mom...?" He whimpered. She turned to him, eyes wide, pale face frightened.

 "Genim, what is it?" She crouched down to him.

 "Those dogs...they're scaring me." Her body went still.

 "Oh baby," she whispered brokenly, "those aren't dogs."  Then she brought him into an embrace. She was cold but he didn't let go, and the scratching at the door grew louder. The things screamed in fury, and he clung tighter to his mom. Then, something warm and wet hit head. His mother let out a sob.

 "Genim, I'm sorry." She let go of him, and he cried, "No!" just as the door burst open.

 They weren't dogs, they were too big, but there eyes glowed with barely contained murder. In less than a second they descended on his mother, and he scrambled out of his blankets.

 One of the hounds turned to him, slashing him with its massive claws. He choked from the blood in his mouth as he watched the light fade from his mothers eyes. They howled in triumph, and he could hear the echo inside his tiny little room. Then, they were gone. As if they weren't even here. The only proof was the body of his mother lying not even a foot way. The silence filled the house. He moaned in agony as fire flooded his veins. His eyes fluttered shut just as he heard the sirens. He could hear his father calling his mothers name. It all faded to black.

When he woke he was in the hospital and his father was in a chair, holding his hand. "Dad...?" He croaked. His dad jerked awake.  
"Stiles! Oh my god, son." He almost hugged him as a nurse came in and hurried towards him. Hands fluttering around his chest she told him not to pull at his stitches.  
"Sorry, nurse McCall." She smiled and said it was okay. He knew it wasn't though. His mom was dead, and it was all his fault. The only thing he heard the doctor say was, "you'll heal well but you're ging to have some very nasty scars. You're a lucky man Mr. Stilinski. You almost died."

Yeah, lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> stiles dad was at work so thats why he wasn't there, btw.


End file.
